


can't deny i want your body

by wordsinthedark (VanScritto)



Category: Formula E RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 18:05:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21480592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanScritto/pseuds/wordsinthedark
Summary: Alex has nice hands.It's not something Mitch has noticed before. Really, it's not something Mitch ever notices – on anyone. But it's Alex' turn to shuffle the cards and the movement draws Mitch's eyes and, well … Alex has really nice hands.They're long and slender, like the rest of his body, and he must have practiced shuffling cards because Mitch can't remember Alex being so good at it without losing or accidentally folding any of the cards.He should stop staring. Probably.
Relationships: Mitch Evans/Alex Lynn
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	can't deny i want your body

**Author's Note:**

> We had a discussion about hands and I wanted to write something fluffy for once in this fandom. It's not easy, I tell you.
> 
> Also, H is having a not-so-wonderful time at the moment, so I figured I'd write this to cheer her up. And, not to forget, also for K. Because she keeps encouraging me to follow through on my stupid ideas.
> 
> This is, in essence, for the both of you, my dears.

Alex has nice hands.

It's not something Mitch has noticed before. Really, it's not something Mitch _ever_ notices – on anyone. But it's Alex' turn to shuffle the cards and the movement draws Mitch's eyes and, well … Alex has _really_ nice hands.

They're long and slender, like the rest of his body, and he must have practiced shuffling cards because Mitch can't remember Alex being so good at it without losing or accidentally folding any of the cards.

He should stop staring. Probably.

But it's mesmerizing, the way Alex' fingers card through the deck and there doesn't seem to be anything more interesting in the world right now.

He jerks around when something hits him in the shoulder. Stoffel is leaning in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Chill, man. I just wanted to know if you want a refill."

"Uh, sure." Mitch nods, forces a grin onto his face. "Sorry, I was distracted."

He chances a glance at Alex and catches him staring back. There's a glint in Alex' eyes and a half smile that suggest he knows exactly _why_ Mitch was distracted. Alex places the deck on the table deliberately, caressing the top card for a moment before he starts distributing the cards among the players.

Mitch's mind helpfully supplies a few other images of Alex caressing _things_ and damn it, _it's nothing_. Just a deck of cards and a pair of hands and Mitch has probably had one drink too many. There's no reason to keep staring at Alex' fingers as he holds his cards in front of his chest and starts sorting through them.

Somehow though, it requires an inhumane amount of self-control for Mitch to tear his eyes away and _not_ make some sort of suggestive comment in front of everyone. Not that it would matter, Alex and Mitch have been throwing suggestive comments at each other for years now, so it probably wouldn't even register with the others.

It wouldn't be _weird_.

Why does it seem like it would be, all of a sudden?

There's nothing special about this night at Stoffel's place. They're playing poker now, the normal version without stripping, which is a good thing because Mitch is so distracted that he'd be naked before the end of the hour. And really, there are people he'd want to get drunk and naked with, but they're not these guys.

_Well, not all of them anyway_, Mitch's mind reminds him_._

Right.

He folds his cards quickly without knowing whether they were any good, because it gives him the chance to excuse himself to the bathroom and throw some cold water onto his face, sober up a bit.

But he doesn't feel drunk when he gets up. Not when he walks to the bathroom and opens the window wide to let some fresh air into the room. Not when he touches his nose repeatedly while keeping his eyes closed, which only leaves one reasonable explanation.

Mitch is, in fact, not drunk.

Okay.

Cool.

He can deal with that.

He's just surprised, is all.

They practically grew up together. Alex used to be tall and gangly, with too long limbs and pointy joints, and Mitch remembers those times. But somewhere along the line, that must have changed. Alex outgrew that awkwardness, the shyness — dating a model would do that to you, Mitch guesses, give you the confidence that you are actually quite the looker. And Alex is exactly that, with that smooth hair and that boy-ish grin. The lean muscles everywhere. Really, Alex has nice _everything_.

Mitch kind of misses the artsy quality of Alex' instagram feed recently.

Oh, right. That's probably it.

Mitch is just used to seeing Alex on display, smiling, posing for the camera – or rather, for the girl behind the camera – and he's stopped doing that, now that the camera and the girl behind it are out of the picture. Which is actually not a bad thing, because that was just not a good match for anyone involved. Except maybe for the camera.

Apparently it just messes with Mitch's brain.

No reason to hyperventilate about long, slender fingers and their dexterity while shuffling a deck of cards — or their dexterity doing other things.

It's _fine_.

Mitch takes a deep breath, closes the window and returns to the table, only for the first thing to catch his eye to be Alex' hand, swirling the liquid in his whiskey tumbler with smooth movements of his wrist.

A joke forms on the tip of Mitch's tongue, but it seems too delicate for this round, too intimate, and Mitch swallows it. Okay, back to hyperventilating it is. Surely, this can be done without anyone noticing. Mitch really regrets folding his hand so early on, because now he's forced to sit at the table and watch the others play with nothing but Alex to focus on.

Alex has really nice hair, too.

He puts some effort into it, Mitch knows. At least on days they don't have to race – although even on race days, Alex' hair looks good, not that Mitch would ever admit that out loud. Well, he would, but he'd add a wink and a chuckle to lighten the mood, the way he's always done.

As if Alex can read Mitch's mind, he lifts one hand to push his hair out of his eyes much the same way Mitch's hands itch to do. It's gotten a bit too long now, Alex complained about it just before the game. Mitch doesn't agree. It gives Alex a raggedy look, makes him seem a bit more reckless when, in reality, Alex isn't reckless at all. At least not for a racing driver.

Mitch picks up his drink with both hands and decides to hide behind it for the rest of the round, taking small sips to keep himself occupied and fingering the rim of the glass. He watches the movement of Alex' fingers, stroking and shuffling his cards over and over.

Alex wins the round. "Alright guys, it's getting late," he announces right after, causing everyone else to jeer and complain.

"Challenge the winner," Stoffel yells, while Alex downs the rest of his drink and gets up.

"Nah," he says and sighs. "Mitch signed us up for a bike ride in the morning."

Oh. What?

Mitch opens his mouth to object, but Alex interjects. "This one needs to up his endurance game if he wants to score this season," he says, looking straight at Mitch and Mitch waits for the wink, for the joke that needs to defuse the innuendo about Mitch _scoring more than just points_, but it doesn't come.

He doesn't mean it like that. But Alex is staring and … well.

Home it is.

It's not a long way — Mitch's apartment is right down the hall from Stoffel's but it still takes them a short eternity to get there, with the guys calling after them all the way. When Mitch unlocks his front door, Alex stands almost unnecessarily close, his breath ghosting over Mitch's ear as if urging him on to get the door open faster. Or maybe that's just Mitch's imagination.

It's definitely just his imagination.

But he doesn't imagine Alex putting a hand on his lower back, awfully close to his ass, to push Mitch inside the apartment, does he?

Alex closes the door behind them, effectively shutting the others out. "You still got that Gin?"

"Gin?" Mitch gapes after Alex, who stalks into the kitchen. "You want to drink before a bike ride?"

There aren't a whole lot of bike routes around here, and they're all uphill. Mitch would like to be sober for that. Alex chuckles, and then there's glass clinking. While Mitch is still processing the fact that Alex' hand had been _a little too low_ when he pushed them inside, Alex returns with two glasses of what could be Gintonic.

"I'm not getting up before ten tomorrow." Alex plops down onto the couch, next to the blankets and pillows that Mitch set out for him. They used to share a bed whenever they stayed at the other's apartment, but that was before either of them had any serious girlfriend. It seems appropriate to stop doing that now, and yet, Mitch suddenly wants to put the blankets away, wants to reset the living room to give Alex a choice as to where he wants to sleep — because maybe Alex wouldn't choose the couch.

"Sorry about lying." Alex lifts the second glass to Mitch and toasts him when Mitch takes it. "It's just that I'm visiting _you_ but it feels like we barely have any time together, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Mitch _does_ know but they probably don't mean the same thing. Alex means hanging out _as friends_ and Mitch really also wants to mean that, but he just accidentally touched Alex' fingers when they toasted each other and the imprint still tingles on his skin in a way that is decidedly not friendly. He sits down and cuddles into the corner of the L-shaped couch.

Mitch wasn't always so stupid about his crushes — they're _just_ crushes, he has them all the time on everyone and anyone. He's just very emotional in general. It's not like he lost any sleep over them — or a game of poker — and while he's definitely had some sexual fantasies about them, it never hit as close to home as this one.

Alex is his _friend_. The thought alone gives him goosebumps, like his body is fighting the idea of it. But that's what Alex is — a friend. A really great friend, too, one that now takes one of the blankets and throws it over Mitch, even making sure that his feet are covered. He throws Mitch a look like he's contemplating something, and crawls closer, under the blanket with Mitch, pulling his feet onto the recliner.

"Is the couch okay?" Mitch asks to concentrate on something, _anything_, other than the warmth radiating off Alex' body next to him. It helps so much more than the blanket. "It's really comfy. Simon says so, at least, he crashes on it all the time."

"It seems comfortable," Alex says and snuggles closer to Mitch, pressing his face into the shirt by his shoulder.

The Gin has loosened Mitch's tongue. "I was talking about the couch, not me."

"Oh?" Alex looks at him with a grin. "I thought you came _with_ the couch. My bad."

"Ah sorry. Does that change your opinion on the couch's comfort level, then?"

"Massively, yes."

They're both smiling and there's this twinkle in Alex' eyes and shit, if this goes sideways, Mitch will just blame the booze later. "Careful, Ace. I might think you're flirting with me."

Something changes in the air, then, a small flicker across Alex' face that Mitch can't quite place. They didn't turn on the lights when they came in, but there are small lights on the floor that Mitch keeps on a timer to make people think he's home even when he isn't.

Alex looks really good in those lights.

"Well." Alex clears his throat. "Yes."

"Yes?" Mitch must have been too distracted by the light and missed a part of the conversation.

Alex sighs. He scoots up and puts his glass on the table so carefully that it looks like he's stalling. He is, Mitch realizes, when Alex turns around but doesn't quite meet his eyes.

"The flirting assumption."

"Yes to the … flirting assumption?" The words sound strange even to his own ears.

"Well, yes." Alex does meet his eyes then and there's a challenge in there, daring Mitch to do something — maybe start a fight. "Been doing that for a few weeks now, actually."

The glass in Mitch's hand feels really heavy. Heavy and cold, sending a shiver up his arm. He needs to put it down, but damn, he doesn't have a side table and the only place he could use is behind Alex who watches his movements intently and Mitch realizes now why everything has been so weird.

Because of that look.

Alex never used to look at him like that, like Mitch is a riddle that needs figuring out. Where there would have normally been a playful grin on Alex' face, there's now a furrowed brow and Mitch gets the feeling that whatever he does next might be very important, might be the most important thing he does all month, might be—

"I love your hands," he hears himself say. Alex cocks his head to the side, probably deciding if Mitch is too drunk to have this conversation, so Mitch charges on with whatever comes to his mind. "Your hair, too. Your abs, those are also really nice. Just everything, really. I mean, you probably know how you look, but … Your hands. They're distracting sometimes."

Right now, Alex' hands are clasped in his lap over the blanket and Alex stretches his fingers a little, like he's trying to see what Mitch is describing but can't for some reason.

"Thank you?" Alex says, but it sounds like a question.

When Alex looks back at Mitch, there's no more challenge in his eyes. Instead, he looks tired.

"Maybe we should go to sleep," Alex says. "I'm sorry I said anything. I'm messing this up." Mitch wants to disagree, but Alex is faster, smoothly disentangling himself from the blanket and striding into the bathroom before Mitch has the chance to do _anything_.

Like fling himself into Alex' lap and kiss him.

There's water running in the bathroom and Alex' voice in the back of Mitch's mind.

_Been doing that for a few weeks now, actually_.

He never noticed. Sure, _he did_, but also he didn't. He never even dared to think that Alex could be serious, but he is, or at least he _was_ before ...

Mitch gets up and gathers the blankets and pillows he'd so carefully stacked earlier and carries them into his bedroom, throwing them onto the mattress.

By the time Alex comes back out of the bathroom, Mitch is in the kitchen, stacking the dirty glasses into the dishwasher. He can hear Alex moving around the apartment quietly, maybe hiding from him. He finds Alex sitting on the couch, watching him.

"You cleaned up," is all Alex says.

Mitch shrugs. "I told you, I don't come with the couch. I come with the bed. So."

"So."

There's a moment of silence in which Mitch tries to figure out what's going on in Alex' head by the way his face looks. It's futile. Alex masks his feelings well, hiding his mouth behind his hands.

"You know," Mitch says and takes slow steps towards Alex, "for someone who has supposedly been flirting with me for weeks, you're really not making it easy for me to take you up on it."

"Are you drunk?" Alex rubs his knees, avoiding looking Mitch in the eye. "You had a few drinks earlier."

"I'm not drunk."

"I'm just saying. I don't want this to be weird in the morning just because I said something and there was alcohol involved and we were being stupid."

"I'm not drunk." Mitch closes his eyes and touches the tip of his nose with his index finger. "See?"

When he opens his eyes, Alex doesn't look convinced.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Ace. Are you seriously trying to back out of this now?" Alex might have a reply to this, but Mitch isn't really expecting one. Instead, he closes the distance between them and climbs into Alex' lap, forcing Alex to look at him. "I'm going to kiss you now, because I've been wanting to do this for a while."

And then he does.

It's just his lips pressed against Alex' and Mitch is holding his breath, trying to read Alex' reaction. _Willing Alex_ to kiss him back, to _want_ him back. Alex had asked Mitch if he was drunk, but what if Alex is drunk?

What if ...?

"If we're going to bed now," Alex whispers, against Mitch's mouth, "there's going to be more than kissing."

Mitch giggles. Actually fucking _giggles_, because he can't help himself. "Well, yes."

Around them, the lights suddenly turn off, leaving them in almost darkness. Alex grabs Mitch's hands then, rushing him off the couch in a haste that has Mitch almost falling backwards if Alex weren't somehow holding him and getting up at the same time. He keeps their faces close together, not quite kissing Mitch, but letting his breath ghost over Mitch's lips in a way that feels way more intimate than a gesture like this should.

Maybe it's the darkness. Or maybe it's the way Alex has to lean down to do that, leading them both through the hallway like he owns the place.

Mitch's hands feel like they're burning, itching to touch Alex, to pull and push and move clothes out of the way. They're so close that Mitch has his eyes shut, trusting Alex to get them to the bed. The back of his knees hit the mattress and there's this urgency in him that makes him try and pull his hands free from Alex' grip. Only Alex doesn't let up.

"You like my hands," Alex says, moving his thumbs over Mitch's skin. "You said so earlier."

Mitch might have used a stronger word than that, but he's not going to argue. "Yes. A lot."

"You want me to touch you." It's not a question, but Mitch nods anyway, opening his eyes. "Are those on a timer, too?" Alex inclines his head towards the bedside lamps Mitch turned on when he brought the blankets in.

"No."

"Good. I want to see you."

Mitch wants to see Alex, too, but Alex is _on_ him now, kissing him. It's still chaste and restrained, so much like Alex, until Mitch sighs and opens his mouth. Then, Alex' hand is in Mitch's hair and the other somewhere at the back of his shirt, pressing their bodies together and leaving Mitch to hold on to the first thing his hands can grasp.

They land on Alex' hips, where his shirt is lifted to leave a strip of naked skin. It's warm to the touch and Mitch's hands are not, making Alex shudder and laugh.

"Fuck, sorry," Mitch mumbles, trying to back away.

"No. Don't stop." Alex pulls back and the look on his face makes Mitch's breath hitch. Alex is smiling, but not with his mouth — there's a twinkle in his eyes, his lips are red and, fuck, if that's not the best Alex has ever looked. He lets go of Mitch while holding his gaze, pulls his shirt over his head in a smooth motion and drops it to the floor, reaching for Mitch's hands.

"My hands are cold," Mitch tries to warn him, but Alex just pulls them towards his hips again. They both flinch at the contact, but Mitch can see Alex trying to hide it by leaning in for a kiss. Alex keeps his hands on top of Mitch's, trying to warm them up, probably, and the position is a bit awkward, forcing Mitch to stand on tiptoes.

"You're tall," Mitch mumbles, leaving little butterfly kisses on Alex' lips, his jawline, towards his neck. Alex is still stroking his hands while keeping them pressed to his hips.

"You don't say." He bends down and wraps his arms around Mitch, leaning into him. "I have a solution for that."

Mitch falls more than he is pushed onto the mattress, looking up at glorious Alex and the flush that creeps across his neck. He looks nervous again, unsure somehow and it occurs to Mitch that Alex has never talked about boyfriends or something along that line. He doesn't even flirt with other guys, unlike Mitch, who uses flirting with everyone as a cover to hide his actual crushes.

"Have you done this before?", he asks softly, and sits up just far enough to reach out for Alex' belt buckle.

"Yes." Alex frowns. "No. Not all of it. And ... it's been a while."

Okay, a lot to unpack there, but maybe not now.

"Come here." Mitch hooks his fingers into the waist of Alex' pants and drags him closer, pressing a kiss to just above the belt buckle. He struggles to get to his knees, make himself a little taller as he kisses his way up Alex' torso.

Alex bends down to catch his mouth in a kiss again, slowly licking along Mitch's lips. He touches Mitch's jaw with his hand, scratching his nails over the stubble there.

This isn't like Mitch thought this would go down. He'd sort of expected to be naked by now, Alex moaning in his ear while they're busy getting each other off the fastest way possible. But Alex is still kissing him like he's trying to get to know Mitch. Like they didn't just agree to do dirty things together but rather came home from a first date, and Alex is prepared to stop at any moment. It shouldn't surprise Mitch that Alex is like this, cautious and restrained, trailing his hands down Mitch's neck and grabbing at the fabric of his shirt to pull it up and off him. Always looking, no, _staring_, while touching, trying to be careful to not do anything wrong.

"I have done this before," Mitch suddenly says, because maybe that will take the edge off a bit. It gets Alex to laugh.

"I figured."

"All of it." Recently, too, but he doesn't say that, because that really has no place in this. "And I can tell you from experience it gets much better when we're both fully naked."

Alex laughs again, pushing Mitch backwards into the mattress. "Are you trying to tell me something here, Evans?"

Fucking hell. "Yes, Ace." The nickname turns into a hiss when Alex bumps his knee between Mitch's legs, pulling him closer. "Just fucking take your clothes off."

Alex puts his hands on his belt and the movement draws Mitch's eyes to Alex' crotch, in the hopes that Alex will just do what Mitch asked. But that would have been far too easy. "You first."

And then he practically _dives_ for Mitch's sweatpants and it's awfully easy to move them out of the way, pull them off of Mitch's legs.

"Interesting," Alex muses, towering over Mitch, his eyes wandering slowly up from Mitch's half-hard cock towards face. "Are you always going commando?"

Mitch doesn't have any shame in wearing no boxers on the days he just lounges about, but he still blushes. It's because of the way Alex looks, he tells himself, with such curiosity and a bit of mischief in his eyes. And the way he sighs and says, "If only I had known."

Fuck, if this is what turns Alex on, Mitch will never wear underwear again. Ever.

Except maybe on race weekends.

Although now Mitch is thinking of Alex pushing a hand into his suit and giving him _that look_ when he realizes that Mitch is naked underneath and yeah. They really need to get this thing going for real now.

Alex seems to agree, because he kneels known between Mitch's legs, pushing them further apart, and puts his hands on Mitch's thighs. Mitch rises up on his elbows to see, to watch Alex stroking him, higher and lower, raking his nails over Mitch's skin in a way that should feel weird, but doesn't.

Because they're Alex' hands.

And one of them is wrapping around his cock now.

Alex scoots closer, the lazy movements of his hands not anywhere near enough to do _anything_ except torture Mitch. But maybe this isn't the hand he should have been concentrating on, because now, Alex' other hand is touching his lower lip, fingers gently pushing against it.

Mitch opens his mouth, because this definitely isn't the first time he's done this, but it feels oddly intimate when he licks against the soft pads of the two fingers Alex pushes in.

Alex grins and pulls his hand back. "I ... really like your mouth."

"Oh God." This is the breaking point, it must be, because Mitch doesn't seem to order his body to do anything, but somehow he is now sitting up and grabbing for Alex' belt again. "I will suck your cock _right the fuck now_, but you really need to get naked for that."

This time, Alex doesn't stall Mitch's movements, even helps push the pants down when Mitch has got the fly open. The mattress is at the perfect height that when Mitch pulls Alex closer, Alex' cock nudges Mitch's inner thigh. Hot skin against hot skin and Mitch doesn't care if the jeans aren't quite off, yet, because he has ideas about kissing he really needs to share.

Mitch pushes his tongue into Alex' mouth, eliciting a moan from Alex that goes right to his balls, and Alex laughs against him, apparently still struggling with the jeans. "And that's why I go commando," Mitch says, a little smug.

"I'll keep that in mind," Alex says, wrapping his wet fingers around Mitch's cock again. He seems to have given up on the jeans for now, focusing instead on kissing Mitch, licking into his mouth and matching the pace of his tongue with that of his hand. "In fact," he says between kisses, "it might be the only thing I think about for a few days."

Great, and now Mitch will be thinking of Alex thinking of him. They are not leaving this apartment until Alex' flight home, he decides.

Alex really does seem to have done this before. Not like giving a handjob is _hard_, per se, but Alex knows what he's doing, spreading the precum with his thumb and putting enough pressure on to make it count. Mitch grabs Alex' hair just like he's been fantasizing about all night, and Alex bites his bottom lip in response — forgotten is the chaste restraint.

It doesn't take much after that, Mitch shuddering against Alex with a sigh that should have been a moan if Mitch didn't suddenly have an insanely sappy three-word thought just before he comes and doesn't dare say out loud.

Alex strokes him until the end and then untangles himself from Mitch to get up. The sudden cold makes Mitch shiver, but he doesn't have time to complain, because he realizes that Alex is using the moments of Mitch's comedown to finally take his pants off; his cock at eye-level for Mitch.

Alex has a really nice cock, Mitch thinks, and yeah maybe that is post-orgasmic bliss talking, but the idea of having this cock inside him at some point in the future makes his stomach flutter.

Also, he _did_ promise to suck that cock, and he'd slide right down on his knees if Alex weren't just stepping in closer. Close enough that all Mitch has to do is open his mouth, for Alex to guide himself inside.

Alex sucks in a breath at the same time as Mitch sucks _him_, pulling back a little and trying to set a slow rhythm.

Normally, Mitch would object to doing it like this. He likes sucking cock and fuck, he certainly likes the power of it, of making the other person squirm. Getting his mouth fucked is not a part of that plan, but Alex is so gentle with him, stroking his cheeks and watching Mitch's every reaction, that Mitch will let this one slide. He places his hands on Alex' hips to steady himself, moving around to squeeze Alex' ass. He notices streaks of his own cum on Alex stomach and reaches up to trace his fingers through it.

"Fuck." Now here's a word Mitch doesn't hear too often from Alex and it makes Mitch think that Alex might be the one doing the fucking, but Mitch still has the power. Alex picks up speed, at least, and Mitch can feel the tension in Alex' thighs when he lets his hands wander.

He moans around Alex' cock, sucking a bit harder with every thrust.

"I'm going to …" Alex tries to pull back but Mitch reacts first, pulls Alex' hips back into him and almost choking himself. Alex looks somehow shocked when he comes, and Mitch isn't quite sure if it's because of the orgasm or because he just realized that Mitch can deep throat like the best of them.

Mitch decides it's the latter and swirls his tongue round the tip of Alex' cock, lapping up even the last drops of cum before swallowing.

Alex' thighs tremble and he crawls forward to straddle Mitch, catching Mitch's mouth in a breathy kiss as he presses him backwards into the mattress. Mitch lets himself be smothered like this, but only because it's Alex and Alex' body heat is keeping Mitch warm.

Just a moment later, Alex decides to change the position, struggling to get them both onto the bed properly and dragging one of the blankets over them. He starts pushing the pillows around and it takes a while for Mitch to realize that this is Alex _stalling _again, nervous and unsure.

"Will you please stop?" It's Mitch's turn to push Alex into the mattress, throw a leg over his to get him to stop moving.

"I just want to make sure you're not cold."

"Cuddle me and I'm not cold."

Alex snorts, but pulls Mitch closer, turning onto his side to look at him. There's a glint in his eye, as if he had just thought of something funny.

"What?" Mitch asks.

"I'm just waiting for you to say it."

"Say what?" Mitch frowns and Alex gasps in mock shock only to start chuckling right away.

"You know. The joke about you coming _with_ the bed. You coming _on_ the bed. I can't believe I'm the one to point this out right now."

Oh yeah. "Would have been a damn shame to let this opportunity go to waste."

"Truly." Alex is still chuckling, but leans over to kiss Mitch on the lips.

And while Mitch is still trying to spin a comeback out of _Alex coming on this bed_, Alex is already busy trailing a hand down Mitch's side, tickling him just before diving to his cock again.

Alex really _does_ have nice hands.


End file.
